The Challenges of a Chaser
by xSiriusly Insanex
Summary: Fred Weasley: boyfriend extraordinaire, charming, witty, sweet. Oliver Wood: Nazi Quidditch Captain, pompous, arrogant, obnoxious. It should be a no brainer, right? Ha, well, life seems to be throwing me challenges of late...
1. Chapter 1

**The Challenges of a Chaser**

_Dreams, Detentions and Dreaded Quidditch Captains_

"_What do you want?" I asked irritably, folding my arms. He leaned against the locker room walls, a slight smirk forming on his features. He didn't answer for a few moments, only smirked in that infuriating manner that he seems to have mastered. I narrowed my eyes to green slits, hoping that he got the warning. He caught me in nothing but my towel in the female side of the locker rooms; of course I wanted answers._

_For a moment, he merely smirked, before responding._

"_You."_

_I didn't even register what these words meant before he pushed me against the wall, pressing his lips on mine._

"Stephanie Rose!" a cold voice said loudly, and I snapped up at once. Once my eyes focused on the scene before me, I inwardly groaned. Not for the first time, I had fallen asleep in potions class, and not for the first time, Snape was displeased.

"That's twenty points from Gryffindor and detention tonight, Miss Rose," he said coolly, black eyes reduced to slits.

I nodded meekly, before he walked away from me.

I rolled my eyes openly when his back was turned, and focused back on the notes I was supposed to be writing. It was one of those potions lessons when we didn't actually make any potions, only wrote down notes about famous potioneers. Boring, if you ask me.

Honestly, it's OWL year, and we're all exhausted! You would think that Snape would have an ounce of empathy for us, but no...

I rubbed my eyes and thought about what I was dreaming about. I couldn't exactly remember... I just recall being in the locker rooms. I had dreamed about being in the locker rooms a lot, and it wasn't unusual. After all, I was on the Quidditch team, and most of my dreams start off in the locker rooms and end up in a game of Quidditch.

Quidditch is the only extracurricular activity that I didn't drop this year. Like I said, it's OWL year, and I don't have much time for the tutoring classes, the chess club, study groups... but Quidditch is my passion, and I wouldn't drop it for any amount of schoolwork in the world. I love the rush of the wind through my hair, the feeling of catching the leathery Quaffle in my hands, dodging Bludgers... it doesn't sound desirable to everyone, but I love it, and wouldn't give it up for the world. Even though my captain isn't the nicest person...

Anyway. I'm not going to waste my time thinking about Oliver Wood of all people.

* * *

><p>When lessons were over for the day, I was grateful. Don't get me wrong, I love school, but I needed to tackle the obscene amount of homework. It's only October, for god sakes!<p>

However, a distraction in the form of Fred Weasley arrived, and I threw away all pretences of completing my homework.

"Hey, Stephy," he said cheerily, sitting down next to me on the couch and wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"Where's your other half?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Entangled with your best friend, I assume," he said, smirking, referring to my nutso best friend, Angelina Johnson. I rolled my eyes. George and Angie pretend that they don't like each other, but it is so painstakingly obvious to everyone else.

I suppose that I'm being a bit of a hypocrite, because before Fred and I got together, I was in a denial much like Angie's.

"You look tired," he said, rubbing circles on my back. I almost sighed contently at the feeling.

"You and George skipped the potions lesson, which is a shame, because it would have been nice for _someone_ to wake me up," I said, somewhat irritably. Detention is in an hour, and at this rate, I was going to get no homework done.

He laughed. "I'm sorry. But we had important business to discuss."

I smirked. Fred and George don't care that this is OWL year; they just want to make merchandise for the joke shop they'll be setting up once they leave school. Well, at least I didn't have to be their guinea pig, like I was last week. Note to self: blue skin isn't the most attractive sight in the world.

Not that I would change my life with the twins. I love being with Fred, and being best friends with George. We all met on the Hogwarts Express as first years, and bonded immediately. Apart from a few fights here and there, we've been inseparable. Until fourth year, that is, when Fred and I were fighting like cats and dogs all day, every day. One day, we were screaming at each other, and it all abruptly ended when Fred kissed me. We've been together ever since. Next month, we will have been together for a whole year.

It was a year of ups and downs, harsh Quidditch games, panicked students and teachers (the Chamber of Secrets was opened last year), and worry for everyone, but we got through it all.

Fred pulled me against his body, wrapping an arm around my waist. I wanted to just melt into his arms then and there, and forget about my homework or detention.

I did for a while, just breathing in his spicy scent and thinking about nothing and everything. But after a while, when I was so close to drifting off to sleep, the grandfather clock struck eight.

"Bloody hell," I groaned. Leave it to a stupid clock to ruin my rest. Fred let go of my waist and looked at me sadly.

"You have to go to detention, don't you?"

"Yeah," I replied, standing up and stretching.

"Damn," he muttered. "We haven't really had any alone time lately, have we?"

"I know, and I'm sorry," I said softly, my brown hair falling into my eyes. Fred pushed the hair away and looked me in the eye, a smirk playing at his lips.

"When you're finished your detention, come to my dorms."

I had stayed in Fred's dorms before. Not for any other purpose than sleeping and talking.

"But my detention could last for hours, and you need to sleep-"

"I'll wait for you," he said simply. I felt my heart melt under the loving gaze he was giving me. Okay, I give in.

"Alright," I said, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the lips. "Love you."

"Love you too," he replied, giving me one last hug.

I felt elated after that exchange. Fred has always had that effect on me. And I love him, more than I can express in words. He infuriates me, and annoys me, but when it comes down to it, he's charming and witty and sweet and everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever dreamed of having.

With these happy thoughts in mind, I walked out of the common room and made my way down to detention.

As I walked down the staircases, I bumped into a figure and fell on my bum. My happy mood didn't disperse, until I saw who it was.

"Walk much, Rose?" he said snidely, cocking an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes. His brown eyes were locked on mine, condescending and challenging. His messy brown hair was messier than usual, and his skin looked flushed. Probably just shagged some girl. It's normal for him.

Wood.

I haven't really said much about him, apart from the fact that he's my Quidditch captain and isn't very nice. To me, at least. He's nice enough to everyone else. He isn't openly mean to me, so people don't see it. But I can. The snide comments here and there, dirty looks, standoffish behaviour...

Usually, I'm a fairly mellow person. People say that I'm like a mellower version of the twins. The only person who sees the angry side of me is Wood.

"Manners much, Wood?" I replied, standing up. He didn't even offer a hand for me to take. Dick.

He snorted. "You're not one to lecture about manners, Miss I-am-always-five-minutes-late-for-Quidditch-practice-even-though-Oliver-asked-nicely-for-me-to-be-on-time."

It was my turn to snort. "Nicely? You demanded it! And you wonder why I don't listen!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You always do the opposite of what people tell you to do."

"That's not true!" I exclaimed angrily, my temper rising quickly. No one got to me like Wood did. I knew why, too...

"Right. So that explains why you are always on detention. Silly me."

"At least I don't follow rules as strictly as you do, Mr I-have-a-perfectly-bleached-asshole!"

"Bleached asshole? You have dirty fantasies, Rose."

"Just not about you," I said evenly, giving him a fake smile. "Anyways, Wood, I have a detention to go to. After all, I don't spend my life sucking up people's asses like you do."

With that, I walked off, my happy mood starting to creep back.

When my long detention was over, I made my way back to the common room. It had been four hours since my run in with Wood, and I was still fairly angry. I mean, I should be used to it. I pretend that his constant backhand comments don't get to me, but deep down, they do. More than I would care to admit.

I'm not going to say that Wood is a horrible person, because he is far from it. He's dedicated and passionate and kind when he wants to be, but never are these traits displayed to me. Not anymore. Which is why I have a marred vision of who he really is. Perhaps in this case, the saying 'blinded by hatred' really does apply. I have enough common sense to see that for whatever reason, Wood hates me, but that doesn't make him a bad person.

It didn't stop me from being angry with him.

I remembered that Fred said he would wait for me, so I walked up to the Boys Dorms. Carefully, I knocked on the fifth year set of dorms, and as promised, Fred appeared, red hair dishevelled and eyes bright and blue.

"You stayed awake!" I said, giving him a little grin. He smiled and hugged me.

"Of course, Stephy," he said into my hair. All my anger at Wood faded away into nothingness. Who cares! I laced my arms around his neck and looked up at him, my green eyes reflected in his blue ones.

"How was detention?" he asked, leading me inside his dorms. I shrugged and took a seat on the bottom of his bed.

"Not too bad. Snape stayed quiet as I cleaned the cauldrons. He didn't say anything scathing, which took me by surprise."

He laughed. "Half the time, I'm wondering what curled up and died in his pants."

"His balls?" I suggested, which earned a light punch on my arm.

"Maybe, if he had any to begin with," he said conversationally, as though we were talking about the weather, not our potions professor's non-existent balls.

"True. Hey, maybe he got castrated! Maybe that's why he's so bitter!"

"Yeah, maybe," Fred reasoned. "Maybe his ex-girlfriend cut them off when she realised that Snape used up all her shampoo trying to wash his greasy hair."

I laughed. "Yeah! And as a tribute to her, he hasn't washed it for the past one hundred years..."

Fred started laughing loudly, disregarding the fact that he was in a dorm with other people. "If Professor McGonagall could hear us right now..."

I half expected her to pop up from under a bed and reprimand us. Yes, I'm a strange child.

"She would probably tell Snape," I said, shuddering at the thought.

"And then we're screwed," he said, smirking. "Anyway, you look tired. Do you want to go back to your dorms, or..."

"I'll stay," I said softly, giving him a shy smile. We had slept together before. And no, not in the dirty way. I'm only fifteen, and I'm not planning to do that for a while.

"Cool," he said, grinning. "Do you want to change?"

"Yeah," I said. He chucked me a shirt and a pair of sweatpants of his.

"You can go and get changed in the bathroom, if you want."

I shook my head. "Just draw the covers around your bed and I'll get dressed here."

I've known Fred since I was eleven years old, and I trust him completely. Most of the time, I find no reason to be embarrassed in front of him. He trusts me, I trust him, enough said.

I pulled off my robes and the clothes underneath, leaving me in my underwear. I saw Fred swallow hard as his eyes flickered across my body, before he locked his eyes on mine. He almost looked nervous. And Fred Weasley is never nervous.

"What?" I asked, as I pulled on his shirt.

"You're beautiful," he said, taking a step towards me and running his hands down my arms. I smiled at him. He had said it before, but every time he said it felt just as amazing as it had the first time. I pulled on the pair of sweatpants and sat down on the edge of his bed, as he beckoned me over to him. I obliged and curled up with him under the covers. Fred ran his fingers up my arms and stopped when he reached my shoulders. He pulled me against his body, dropping a kiss onto my forehead. It's rare for Fred to be so serious and sweet; he and George are both the pranksters of Hogwarts, after all.

"Sleep well," he murmured, brushing hair from my eyes. I slowly started drifting into a deep sleep, completely forgetting that there was Quidditch training the next morning.

* * *

><p>I only remembered when I heard a familiar Scottish accent, a few hours later.<p>

"Weasley, get – _oh_!"

My eyes opened at the sound, and it took a few seconds to focus on what I was seeing. Wood was looking down at Fred and I. I felt heat rush my cheeks. He must think that I'm a whore now... wait, why do I care what he thinks?

"It isn't what it looks like-"

His brown eyes looked softer than usual, but that only lasted for a second before they hardened.

"Really, I don't care about what your bedroom activities comprise of-"

"Wood!" I exclaimed, as Fred began to stir. He noticed this.

"Just get up now, we have training."

What a lovely way to wake up.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Heyo, this is my new story. Please leave a review of any sort to help me out!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**The Challenges of a Chaser**

_Borderline Enemies_

Scowling irritably, I threw clothing haphazardly across my room, as I scoured my trunk for my potions book. I never organised my trunk until I really needed to, and I suppose that now was as good of a time as ever.

I heard a disgruntled sigh. "This dorm is messy enough without all your clothing around the place."

I turned around and rolled my eyes as my best friend, Angelina Johnson, glared at me through a shirt that had decided to lodge itself on her face. She took it off and threw it to me.

"Sincere apologies," I said sarcastically, sitting down and taking everything out of my trunk in a more orderly fashion. I heard Angie sigh again, before I heard the creak of a mattress, and I didn't have to turn around to see that she had thrown herself down on the bed, face buried into her mound of pillows.

Angelina and I have been best friends since we met on the Hogwarts Express. She is my oldest friend, bar one friend that I don't like to mention. Angie is the bestest, most supportive friend that you will ever meet. Initially, she might seem as though she is overbearing and pompous, but if you know her, you'll see that no one could ever care more than she does. She's beautiful, too: dark braided hair that falls past her shoulders, glittering brown eyes, and a tall and strong physique. She looks like a Nubian princess.

Anyway, back to my trunk. I had to sort through this before dinner began.

You know when you start to clean your room, and you find things that you haven't seen in ages and get distracted? Yeah, well, the same sort of thing happened when I went through my trunk. I had never taken everything out of the trunk before, so I expected there to be some strange things at the very bottom of it.

However, so far, I was surprised: I only found a few old quills, tampons and pieces of torn up parchment, until I stumbled across a photo album.

My lips turned up in a smile. It was the album I made during my third year, containing photographs of my friends and family. I blew the dust off it and flipped through the pages, my smile widening with each new photo. There was one moving photograph of me on Angelina's back, as we splashed around in the lake. There was one of my other best friend, Alicia Spinnet, doing bunny ears behind my head as I took a photo of myself. And there were about a million photos of the twins and I, pulling random faces.

Why did I keep such precious photos in an album?! Photos like that should be put up on display. I took all of the photos out of the album, and put them in a pile, ready to stick on the wall when I had finished organising my trunk. After I found the photo album, nothing really distracted me. I reached the very bottom of my trunk, and saw the white back of a small photograph. I grinned. It was probably another photo of my friends and I.

I turned the photo over, my smile slipping off my face like Stinksap.

Once upon a time, there was a seven-year-old girl and a nine-year-old boy. The seven-year-old girl is now fifteen, and the nine-year-old boy is now seventeen. And now, everything has changed. But once upon a time, they were friends, the best of friends. They played Quidditch together and laughed together and got in trouble together and did everything together. When the nine-year-old boy was eleven, he went to Hogwarts, and for two years, the girl dreamed of going to Hogwarts to see the boy. But when she finally was old enough to go to Hogwarts, the boy had new friends. He was popular, on the Quidditch team, and didn't have time for his oldest friend. Two years later, when the girl tried out for the Quidditch team, the boy acted as though they had never been friends. As if she were the enemy.

I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears from pooling in my eyes. Merlin, it happened years ago, and I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry over my abandoned friendship with Oliver Wood.

I try to forget that it ever happened, that we were ever friends. I try to act as though his behaviour doesn't hurt me, when really, it does, more that I would ever admit. He was my best friend, my playmate, my everything. And now we're borderline enemies.

The photo was of us with our arms around each other. We both had huge grins on our faces. I remember that day very well. Always will.

The nostalgia was diminished in mere seconds, replaced by anger. I thought that I ripped up all the photos of us ages ago. In fact, I haven't thought about our friendship in a long, long time, so much so that I've convinced myself that we were never even friends in the first place. That I never knew him before Hogwarts.

I ripped up the last piece of anything that reminded me of our friendship. Maybe it was unnecessary, as I had already forgotten about it whilst the photo was in existence, but it made me feel better nonetheless.

I turned around, and Angelina still had her head buried in a pillow. I wondered whether she could breathe or not.

"Oi," I said, chucking a sock at her head. She got up with a jolt.

"I was having a lovely sleep, you bint," she grumbled. I smirked.

"Yep, probably dreaming of George."

She gasped and gave me a scandalised look.

"George and I are only friends!"

My eyes veered into a roll. If I had a dollar for every time she said those six words, I would be a billionaire by now. The 'only friends' line is the oldest one in the book. I used to say it about Fred and I all the time, before we got together. Another line that Angie commonly uses is 'and even if I _did_ like him...' and then she would rant about how they wouldn't work, how they are incompatible, blah blah blah. The thing about George is that he is a lot like Angie. Out of the twins, George is the more responsible and caring one, the one who grounds Fred and makes sure that he doesn't do anything too stupid. In mine and Angie's friendship, it is much the same. Angie always makes sure that I don't take my arguments too far, or get myself backed into a corner for whatever reason. I personally think that they would be great for each other. I mean, it would be awkward if they broke up, given that they are my best friends, but even so, it would be awesome. The reason that they got to know each other so well was because of me. So maybe I should take it in my own hands to get them together. Yeah, that'll work.

"And you're sounding like the me of last year," I said smoothly, and her brown eyes narrowed dangerously, but she didn't say anything.

I checked the clock and saw that it was dinnertime. I stood up and glanced at the potions book that I had been searching for the whole time. Damn you, potions book. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have stumbled across that photo, and I wouldn't have the painful memories fresh in my mind. See? Potions (and by extension, Snape) does no good for anyone!

Angelina was still a little angry with me as we made our way down to dinner. I would have to speak to Alicia later about how to set them up. Me, Alicia and Angelina move as a trio, on the Quidditch pitch and off. We're the three Chasers on the team, and we're three best friends in real life as well. In our trio, Angelina is the mother hen and Alicia is the girly one, if I had to put them under a title. I'm not sure what I am. Maybe the daredevil.

"Oh, look," I said, as I noticed the twins. "There's an empty spot next to George. You should take it!"

Angelina gave me a look that would make most people run for the hills. "Stephy, I love you, but I will kill you if you say anything like that again."

"Have fun at my funeral," I said sweetly, and before she could comprehend what my words meant, I walked over to George.

"Wrong twin," he said, smirking. I rolled my eyes.

"That's so old," I said. "Anyway, it's not me that wants to sit with you. It's Angie. See, she likes you a lot and is yearning to sit next to you, to breathe in the same air as you, to feel-"

"Shut up," he growled, but I saw the glitter of amusement in his eyes, which were a shade lighter than Fred's sapphire ones.

It was lucky that I said this all quietly, because if I had screamed it out like I had initially planned, my death would be a whole lot more painful.

"So, ask her to sit with you!" I said, feeling Fred's eyes trained on me.

With that, George quietly beckoned for Angie to join him. I heard Fred's catcall and smirked widely.

"Nice input, boyfriend dearest," I said, taking a seat next to him. He laughed and entwined his fingers with mine.

"I just want this whole thing to be over! George is whining all the time about being single, and whenever I suggest Angelina, he blows up in my face."

"That wouldn't be good for your health," I said, smirking. He shook his head.

"You're right there."

Thankfully, George and Angie weren't listening to our conversation, as they were engrossed in a conversation of their own. I was about to say something to Fred, when I saw that the seat next to me was taken by a blonde haired girl. I smiled. Alicia.

She turned to me and grinned. "Hey, Stephy. I just went to powder my nose and there was heaps of your clothing on the floor in our dorms. You and Fred been busy, eh?"

I felt my cheeks turn red, and I rolled my eyes. Not only is Alicia girly, she's very into romance, and I suppose the two tie in together. Oh, and by powder her nose, she doesn't really mean that. That's codeword for changing her sanitary items.

"Head out of the gutter, Spinnet," I said, and then adding in an undertone, "We have matchmaking business later."

Alicia is also very smart, so she knew exactly whom I was referring to. I then turned back to Fred.

"What was that about?" he asked. "The whispering, I mean."

"Matchmaking," I said quietly.

"Can I join in?" he asked. Fred's also very smart when it comes to things like this, which baffles me. He's usually very slow when it comes to issues like romance, but I guess that matchmaking is different. It's sort of like a prank, and pranks, as you well know, are Fred's forte.

"If needed," I replied. He grinned roguishly.

My focused zeroed in on the food that had appeared at the table. Mm. I didn't realise how hungry I had been until now. But I suppose that I have had a busy day. Training from four to six in the morning (and it's Monday, even worse), lessons all day and yet another detention with Snape, which was spent during my free period. I dropped Divination this year, mainly because I needed the free period to catch up on my study. Leave it to Snape to take it away from me. And it wasn't as though I had fallen asleep, like I had done three days ago. I added _one_ wrong ingredient and the potion melted my cauldron. Snape made me clean up the mess, greasy git.

"What a ladylike eater," Fred said sarcastically, as my mouth bulged with sprouts. I punched him in the arm, swallowing my food. Me eating like a caveman is nothing different to usual; Fred knows that.

"What a pleasant boyfriend," I replied, grinning.

"Yep. I should get an award."

"For what, being the best at not understanding sarcasm?"

This playful banter was the norm for Fred and I, well before we got together. I was used to his teasing, and he was used to my sarcasm. Maybe my opinion is biased, but we work well together, I think. All my friends seem to think so as well.

When dinner was over, I was feeling pleasantly warm and sleepy. Fred smirked at me as we made our way up to the common room.

"Tired?"

"No," I yawned. "I just like pretending that I'm about to collapse with exhaustion."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you ever _not_ sarcastic?"

I gave him a flat look, confirming his answer. He laughed and put an arm around my shoulders.

"Sleep time for ickle Stephy."

I scowled at the use of the nickname. He knew that I hated it.

"You don't say," I grumbled. I needed sleep, and I needed it now. I stood on tiptoes and kissed Fred's cheek. "Night."

"Night," he said, ruffling my hair and giving me a grin. In a happy, sleepy daze, I made my way up to my dorms.

* * *

><p>My definite least favourite class was Arithmancy. Not because it was a bad subject or anything. In fact, it was my favourite subject. But not many people liked it or were good at it, and I was one of the only people in fifth year who decided to take the class. Because of this, fifth, sixth and seventh year Arithmancy classes were combined. And to my bad luck, Wood was in this class. But the worst part about it was that Professor Vector had assigned us as partners on our first lesson of the year.<p>

You would think that after being on the same Quidditch team for about four years, we would learn to get along. And yeah, as a team, we work well. In Quidditch, that is. But then again, the Chaser and Keeper have little interaction when they are on the same team, except for when the Keeper throws the Quaffle back into the game, and you don't really need teamwork to aim and catch.

The thing is, we _should_ get along. He was my childhood best friend. But we don't, not anymore, and that was why Arithmancy class was a complete and utter nightmare.

I tried my best. I tried to get along with him and get the work done. But we bickered at everything and he made many snide comments as to how my work ethic was off. At least we didn't have to do homework together, as long as we finished the work in class.

"Rose," he snapped, as I tried to finish the difficult theory question. "You're going about it the wrong way."

I like to think that I'm a nice, mellow, friendly person, but when I'm around Wood, I am the opposite. I snapped my head towards him and narrowed my eyes. How can he get me so angry at the slightest comment? That condescending look in his eyes makes me want to... to...

Well, I don't know.

"Really? Because I'm fairly certain that this is the correct way."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've been taking this class for how many years?"

"This is my third."

"And this is my fifth," he responded, looking annoyingly smug. "So I would think that whatever I say goes."

I scoffed - how far _is_ his head up his ass?!

"Just because you're older than someone, doesn't mean that you are better. Look at Harry! He's younger than you and he's a better flyer!"

Wood scoffed, brown eyes alight with malice. "That's just because he's a one in a million chance, a prodigy. So you're telling me that you are an Arithmancy prodigy?"

"Yes," I replied, raising an eyebrow. He smirked, and the sight made me want to strangle him.

"You're insufferable."

"And you are an arrogant, self-assured dickhead," I responded, a smirk of my own gracing my lips.

"Careful, now, Rose. You don't speak to your captain like that."

I clenched my fists. Here he was, Oliver Bloody Wood, acting as though I am an idiotic little child!

He narrowed his eyes, and I realised the dangerous proximity of our faces. We were working on a cramped table in the back of the classroom, our faces mere centimetres from each other. I could count the freckles on his nose.

"Love, I think that you should start respecting your captain," he said in a quiet, dangerous voice. I shivered. Somehow, the way that he spoke seemed more dangerous and challenging than it would have if he screamed. "Because as the captain, I have the right to kick you off the team."

Most people would gasp and apologise profusely for upsetting him. But I knew Wood, and I knew that Quidditch was his life. And I'm a good Chaser. He can't afford to lose me. I'm a risky player and my risks _always_ pay off.

"That's an empty threat, Wood, and you know it. As if you would kick me off the team!"

His eyes glittered with anger, and I knew that I won this argument. With a smirk, I turned back to my work.

"Exactly what I thought."

I could feel the anger radiating off him, if that was possible.

"You still aren't doing your work right."

I turned to him once more. "Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, as it is both of our work and it has to be done-"

He snatched the sheet of paper off me and put it in front of him.

"I'll do it, I think."

"No you won't!" I snarled, trying to grab the sheet of paper off him. He stood up and held it above my head. Damn. He's about six foot and I'm barely five foot five. With a smirk that once again made me want to strangle him, he sat down.

"I will be doing this."

I fingered the wand in my robes. "Oh yeah?"

"Love, I'll do this work. The alternative is doing it as homework, and I know for one that I already spend way too much time with you for my liking. Got it?"

I may have won the Quidditch argument, but he won this one.

* * *

><p>"What's wrong, Stephy?" Fred asked in the common room that night, brushing hair from my eyes.<p>

"Oliver Wood is wrong," I said, my voice a low growl.

"What's he done this time?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Being his usual dickhead self," I replied, casting a sour look around the common room. All day I had been in an angry mood due to Wood being, well, Wood, and not even Fred's comfort could change that. Wood affected a part of me that I didn't know existed, and I had a vague idea why. But thinking about it is painful.

"Do you want George and I to do something about it? Put some itching powder in his boxers, make his shower water blue, hide his broomstick..."

I giggled slightly. "The latter sounds very good to me, but no. He threatened to take me off the team, and although it was an empty threat, if he finds out that we have taken away his broomstick, say good bye Beaters and Chaser."

I tried to sound as light-hearted as possible, but Fred didn't buy it. He was biting the inside of his cheek, which he always did when he was angry.

"He threatened to take you off the team?" he asked in a soft, dangerous voice.

"It was an empty threat, I doubt that he'll actually do it," I assured. Fred looked angry.

"It would be the stupidest mistake of his life if he did," he said, and I could see that he was biting his cheek harder. "You're a better Chaser than Angelina and Alicia combined."

I blushed - Fred was exaggerating a lot. Angelina is the best Chaser, with her refined technique and by-the-rulebook game play. Alicia is the one who does fancy flourishes and the like, which distracts the other team (though I don't think that's her intention, I think she just likes showing off) and I'm the daredevil who takes the risks.

"Thanks. Wood just makes me so angry, I want to-"

I still couldn't finish that sentence!

"To what?"

I thought about it. Punch him? Slap him? Strangle him? Suffocate him? Shoot him?

"Throw him in a vat of tar and watch him die," I said calmly, and Fred burst into laughter.

"You're so hot when you're angry," he teased, giving me a kiss on my cheek. I smirked.

"Well then, I'll just turn myself into an angry bitch, shall I?"

"Good call," he said, smiling. "You can scream out your anger at me and we'll end up snogging our frustrations out."

"You don't need me to yell at you for us to snog," I whispered, leaning in and kissing him.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Challenges of a Chaser**

_New Rules_

It seemed that after the incident during Arithmancy, Wood has taken it upon himself to train me even harder than the rest of the team. Treatment like this is against Hogwarts school rules, unless there is a good reason for specialist treatment. And there isn't any, apart from the fact that Wood despises me.

But he's _trying_ to find reasons for training me harder. I was late by two minutes? I get ten extra bleacher sprints. I dropped the Quaffle? That's twenty push-ups. It isn't going unnoticed by the rest of the team. Personally, I don't really care, or at least I'm not going to let Wood know that. I mean, it's only a little bit of extra work, but it's the fact that he's doing it for no reason that seems to annoy Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina.

"It's so unfair," Fred said, as us five sat by the lake on Saturday morning. "You did nothing wrong."

"He just hates me," I said simply. It was all that my four best friends were talking about, and it was becoming a bit wearisome.

"Why though?" Alicia pondered aloud. "I mean, you've never done anything to him, have you?"

I shook my head, trying not to think about childhood memories. "No, I guess that some people just clash."

"Maybe I should have a word with him," Fred said.

"No," I interjected. "Wood will think that I'm complaining when I'm not. I don't care, Fred. It isn't all that much extra training anyways."

He looked skeptical. "You sure."

I gave him a grin. "Positive."

* * *

><p>"Rose."<p>

"Wood."

I narrowed my eyes at him as he blocked my way in an empty corridor. I was trying to make my way to the common room, but I was _dis_graced by Wood's presence.

"Please move," I said politely. "I have places to go, people to see."

"As do I, and trust me, I didn't seek you out because I wanted to," he said, grimacing as if I were a slug. "No, I have come to inform you that I've made a rule."

"Oh yeah?" I said, not really giving a damn.

"Well, it's a rule about Quidditch. See, all the other teams have it, and I really think that it will help if our team has the rule too."

"Spit it out, Wood," I sighed, really tired of being around him. I looked up into his brown eyes, which were alight with amusement. He had really nice eyes-

"I've decided that there is a ban on interteam dating."

My slipping attention sharpened. "WHAT?"

"You heard me," he said, grinning slyly. "And no, I didn't do it because of you and Fred. No, Angelina and George are the ones that are distracted, and performance on their behalf is slipping. It's only a matter of time until they get together, right? But I have to be fair, don't I? It has to apply to _everyone_."

My jaw dropped at his words. This wasn't because of Angelina and George's denial/infatuation with each other. It was because of me. I could see it from the look in his eyes. He was doing this to me. He hated me, and yes I knew that, but this... this is taking it too far. Training me harder, I can handle, and he could see that I was handling it. So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"So you're telling me that I have to break up with Fred?" I asked in a soft voice.

"Basically," he drawled. "That, or you quit the team."

"You can't afford to lose me," I snarled, clenching my fists, anger bubbling inside me.

"I don't know what delusion you are under, but you aren't all that great, love," he chuckled. "Plenty of fresh talent that could replace you if you left."

"Tell me this is a sick joke," I said quietly. "That this is an early April fool's joke, or that Fred and George set you up."

He shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No, it isn't a joke, and I looked through the Hogwarts Quidditch Rule Book, and if the captain sees that something is making everyone distracted, he is allowed to ban it. All the other teams do it, love. In case you haven't noticed, we haven't won the cup for years."

"That's because we have a lousy captain," I snarled, blinking back the tears that formed in my eyes.

He smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe it's because people like you are obsessed with pointless relationships."

I spluttered. "Pointless - pointless?! I don't think you realise that I love Fred, and-"

I was cut off by his laughter. "Love? You are just a naive fifteen-year-old girl with a schoolgirl crush. You don't know what love is!"

I felt my cheeks flush in rage. This isn't a stupid schoolgirl crush. This is real.

"Listen here, Wood," I snarled, jabbing him in the chest. "You think that you are all high and mighty, banning your fellow teammates from living their lives. But let me tell you, you are nothing but an arrogant jackass. You do realise that Angelina and George aren't actually dating? Therefore, your rule only applies to Fred and I. Don't paint yourself as innocent, Wood, because you are far from it. For whatever reason, you hate me. I don't even care what that reason is anymore. But you can't do this. Please don't do this."

He looked completely indifferent. "As I was saying, you and Fred won't last. Trust me. You may think that you have it all sorted down to what colour your wedding dress is, but I'm here to tell you that it. Won't. Last. I am your captain, and I offer you guidance. Either you break up with him or you quit the team. You have to decide what is more important - running off with some prankster or fulfilling your dream."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh, good one, Wood," I said, pretending to wipe tears of laughter from my eyes, when really, they were tears of anger. "You know, I used to think that you did care about me. You know what? You don't. So I'm not going to listen to anything that you say."

He didn't look angry, only more amused with each passing second. "Sure, love. Just quit the team then."

I closed my eyes for a second. What would Fred do in this situation? Fred hates rules. What does Fred do with rules? He finds loopholes. My eyes opened; a brilliant loophole and come to mind.

I mastered the art of fake crying years ago; it was a good mechanism to get out of trouble with the softer professors. I looked up at Wood, eyes shining with tears. I watched his expression change from amusement to confusion to worry in a matter of moments. I know that deep down, Wood is a decent person, and what is the key to a decent man's conscience? Tears. And you wonder why I don't use this strategy on Snape.

"So Fred and I can't be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore?" I asked, contorting my features up in pain. For a second, it didn't look as though he bought it, but then he seemed to.

"Look, Rose, I'm not meaning to ruin your life-"

"I know," I said, lying through my teeth. "You're trying to make me focus on my dreams."

He frowned again. "Are you feeling okay, Rose? You're finally speaking some sense!"

I ignored this comment. "You win, Wood. We will no longer be boyfriend and girlfriend."

I chose the way I worded things carefully, and thankfully, Wood didn't pick up on it.

"Okay," he said, still frowning, brown eyes burning into my eyes. "But if I find out that you are secretly together, I'll-"

"Don't worry," I said, pretending to act defeated. "I think it's for the best. I mean, what would petty little me know about love?"

On that note, I walked off, trying not to burst into mirthless laughter.

I reached Fred's dorm quickly and knocked on the door. He answered, grinning when he saw me.

"Hey, Stephy," he said softly, pulling me into a hug. I pulled away quickly.

"Okay, I'll cut to the chase. Basically, Wood has made a ban on interteam dating, which means that I have to break up with you."

A panicked look crossed his features. "You won't-"

"No," I said hastily, walking in and sitting on his bed. "No, of course not. This is just Wood's latest instalment in making my life a living hell. I made him believe that we would no longer be boyfriend and girlfriend. I didn't say that we would break up, I just said that."

A grin crossed his features. "So we'll no longer be _boyfriend and girlfriend_?"

"Exactly," I said primly. "We'll label us as something different. I know that it's a weak loophole, now that I think about it, but it was the best I could do. That, or we kiss our positions on the Quidditch team goodbye."

"It's a brilliant idea!" he said, grinning. "So what will we be? Partners in crime, husband and wife, partners in the bedroom, 'teammates', 'work buddies'-"

I burst into laughter at the last suggestion. "No, we'll be friends."

He frowned. "Friends?"

"With benefits," I said, winking. "Basically, friends with all the benefits of a 'boyfriend/girlfriend relationship', not 'that' sort of friends with benefits," I added, noting his eyebrow waggle. "But we have to keep it a secret. That way, if we get caught, we'll just tell Wood that we're friends with benefits. Two defence mechanisms," I said, smiling at him. I had to think up the plan very quickly, but with a bit of help, it should work. Wood wasn't going to rule my life or my emotions. He ruined my life once, he won't ruin it again.

"So how should we 'break up'?"

"Publicly, in the common room, now," I said, standing up. "I want you to break up with me."

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"Because then I can make Wood feel like a jerk," I said, grinding my teeth as the anger flared up again. "I'll run off 'crying' and make him feel bad for his choice."

He grinned. "Sounds good. Can we tell anyone that we're secretly going out?"

"No," I said firmly. "No one. At all. This is between us. And in public, we have to act as if we don't exist, because if we act like enemies then people will get the 'they act like they hate each other but they secretly like each other' idea into their heads, because that's the case with most male/female enemies."

Fred blinked a few times. "Two things. Firstly, how the hell do you know so much?"

"You try having girly friends," I said, rolling my eyes. Being around Alicia and Angelina has rubbed off on certain aspects of my personality, my girly side included.

"And secondly, the enemies liking each other doesn't always happen. Look at you and Wood," he pointed out. Fair point.

"I think that it's a bit of a stretch to call Wood and I enemies," I said.

"After all this? I don't think so."

In five minutes, we were ready to put our break up into action. I would come downstairs five minutes before Fred.

When I was downstairs, I picked an empty couch and sat on it, pretending to read a book, but really imagining the look on Wood's face. He was sitting with a few of his mates, laughing about something stupid, undoubtedly.

Fred came downstairs a few minutes later, sitting next to me.

"I'm not listening to Wood," I said loudly, grabbing everyone's attention. "I am never breaking up with you!"

"I can't say the same," Fred exclaimed. "Stephy, you are nothing but a lazy, good for nothing slut! I know that you've been cheating on me, but I didn't want to break up with you until I had the opportunity."

I gasped and cued the fake tears. Oh, I'm a good actress.

"What?" I yelled, standing up. "I would never cheat on you!"

He scoffed. Oh, we're both good at acting. "Yeah, right. Stephy, it is done. I never want to see you again."

Fred shot me a filthy look and walked up his stairs. The whole common room was staring at me. I burst into 'tears' and ran out of the common room and down the hallway. Once I was out of earshot, I burst into laughter. That was the single funniest thing I had ever done! Come on, as if I would ever cheat on him! But _I _even believed it all for a moment; it was that good.

And as I ran out, I had caught sight of Wood's guilty expression: the icing on the metaphorical cake. I can always make something good come out of something bad, and today had proved it. And goddamnit, there was such a thrill to a secret relationship. I couldn't wait to snog Fred in a corner, secretly, of course.

When my peals of laughter had calmed down, I stood up, cheeks wet from tears of laughter. I put a depressed expression on my face and walked into the common room. People were gossiping about our 'break-up'. Wood was talking to his friends, but he stopped when he saw me. He raised an eyebrow, and there was something painfully familiar about his expression. When we were little, a raised eyebrow was his way of asking me if I was okay. But he wouldn't remember that, would he? No, of course not. I didn't even give him a filthy look, just walked up the stairs of my dorms. Fred and I were known as Gryffindor's golden couple, and I knew that the gossip would not disperse for days.

* * *

><p>Three days later, and I was right. People had still not stopped talking. Fred and I hadn't really carried out much 'friends with benefits' activities, because we were being watched. But we wrote each other letters, and that worked. Today was the first day when we would have any contact, as it was Quidditch training. At first, I thought that I should make my performance drop, and prove to Wood that his plan wouldn't work, but then I decided against it. Because even if he did disband the rule, it wouldn't mean that Fred and I could get back 'together', as then Wood would know that it was all a play, and Fred and I would probably be kicked off the team.<p>

Now, there was a slight hitch in our plan, and that was that Alicia, Angelina and George knew. They didn't buy our break up for one minute, so we had to tell them. But they are sworn to secrecy. The one good thing is that they can let us know if Fred and I are getting too obvious.

"Come on, Stephy," Alicia said, tying her wet hair up into a ponytail. "Training starts soon, and you can't be late again."

"Good point," I said. "Honestly, I hate Wood's guts for doing this. He's making everything more difficult."

"And he's made Angie upset too," she added in. "She was actually going to ask George out a few days ago, until Wood put that stupid rule in place."

"Really?" I asked, shocked. "She didn't tell me!"

Alicia gave me a small smile. "She didn't tell me either. I sort of kinda snuck through her diary."

I shook my head. Typical Alicia. "Now I hate Wood even more, I growled, grinding my teeth. "He is so gonna get it."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Challenges of a Chaser**

_First Love No More_

* * *

><p>Wood was my first friend.<p>

I never made friends easily. I'm not exactly sure why. I was a polite, sporty, intelligent little girl. I had social skills. Adults liked me. But making friends with other girls was always hard. My Gran said they can let jealousy cloud their judgement, and this is what gets in the way of friendship.

I did dancing when I was little, before I was old enough to join the Little League Quidditch. It was at dancing that I was judged the most. I longed for the day I turned eight and could play Quidditch. Not many girls played Quidditch. That was the good part.

But one day, we had to find partners in dance class. Girls made groups of three just so that they wouldn't have to be with me. When I got home that day, I was in tears. Gran was the one who comforted me. She's lived with Mum, Dad and I since Grandpa died when I was very little. I've always felt closer to Gran than I have Mum and Dad.

She once again told me that these girls were just jealous of me. I loved dancing, but I had never wanted to quit it as much as I did that day.

That weekend, Gran invited her friend, Michelle, over for tea. Michelle was my mother's age, and Gran had been her instructor back in the days when she worked as an Auror in the Ministry. Michelle brought over her little boy, and Gran suggested that I go and meet him.

"Boys are icky," I had complained. But in the end, she dragged me out of my room so that I could meet this boy.

The first thing I noticed about this boy was that he was very tall, which made me suspect that he was a bit older than me. He had scruffy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He looked more approachable than anyone around my age group had ever done.

"Stephy, this is Oliver," my Gran said.

"Hi, Oliver," I whispered, feeling shy.

"Hi," he replied, giving me a nervous smile.

The next thing he asked was if I liked Quidditch. The minute I said yes was the minute he became my best friend.

We spent the whole afternoon playing in my backyard on kid-sized broomsticks. When we were too tired to continue flying, we sat under the willow tree in the far corner of my backyard.

I felt comfortable around Oliver, despite only knowing him for three hours. He wasn't at all like the girls my age.

"Do you play Quidditch?" he asked, looking curious.

"No," I replied sadly. "I'm only seven and I can't join the league yet."

He frowned. "Well, you're very good then. What team do you support?"

"Puddlemere United," I said immediately. He smiled.

"Me too!"

There was a silence, before he spoke again. "Do you do any other sports?"

"Dancing," I said, scowling at the ground. Oliver noticed my expression and spoke up.

"Don't you like it?"

"I do, but all the girls there hate me," I grumbled. "I don't have any friends."

"Well, I'll be your friend!" he suggested, looking hopeful. I brightened up at this.

"Really?"

"Of course!"

And that was the day when I completely forgot about how I didn't have many friends. It didn't matter, because Oliver was my friend. For the next two years, we grew closer and closer. We played Quidditch together in the Little League; I was a Chaser and he was a Keeper. He came over every Saturday night for a sleepover, and we would stay up late watching movies (my mother is a muggleborn) and hiding in our sleeping bags. If I was upset over something, he would hug me until I felt better. I thought that Hogwarts was going to be amazing! Although the two years when he was going there and I wasn't were tough, the thought of playing Quidditch together and being best friends sustained me.

So when I boarded the Hogwarts Express, Oliver was the only person who I thought about. When I sat next to Fred and George, the first thing I told them about was Oliver. After being best friends with a guy since I was seven, I suppose that I had a predisposition to befriending and understanding guys. No wonder I got them as friends so easily. It was sheer luck that I managed to find Angelina and Alicia, two girls who were so likeminded to myself.

When Oliver – now referred to as Wood – ignored my existence for the first couple of days, I thought that it was just a prank. But I soon discovered that he truly did forget me. How could he?

When I tried out for the team, he was very cold towards me. This was probably because I decided to be a massive bitch to him, but still... he was the bad guy here!

It hurt. He was my best friend, the one person who I could confide in. Hell, I even had a bit of a crush on him for a while there...

I wrenched my mind away from these thoughts. I've been thinking about Oliver way too much in the past few weeks. I shouldn't be. I have other friends now, friends that _don't ignore me for no reason_.

Since Oliver's stupid rule that made Fred and I 'break-up', it's been harder and harder to have time alone. We were Gryffindor's golden couple, and people are always watching us. And the rumours going around are ridiculous! One of them is that Wood got me pregnant. Another is that I stuff my bra with tissues. The latter one confuses me: why the hell would Fred dump me over stuffing my bra with tissues! Not that I do, but still, it's weird.

We write each other letters. Sometimes, we stay up until three in the morning and sneak down to the Quidditch pitch together so that we can talk and just be with each other. But it isn't enough. I am completely miserable.

I can't hang around Fred in public, even as friends, because our staged break-up was pretty messy. And Wood would suspect something. That's the first reason why I'm miserable. Second off, Angie is upset because she was so close to asking George out, but then Wood had to instate the stupidest rule ever. Why does he have the right to make us all miserable!? Yet I checked the Quidditch rulebook, and yes, he had perfect liberty to ban interteam dating.

And although Fred and I aren't 'dating', we're still technically together. As said, we basically just labelled ourselves something different. If Wood finds out, there goes my dream of playing for Puddlemere. How am I supposed to prove to the Quidditch scouts that I can play Quidditch if I'm not on a team? I can't. So I just have to suck it up.

The final reason why am I miserable is because I'm missing Wood. The old Wood, that is. I'm missing his comforting words and playing Quidditch all day and so many other aspects of our old friendship. I don't know why I've been thinking about it more lately. Maybe it's because he's been a massive dick and it's making me miss his old ways? Probably.

What would it be like if we were friends now?

If.

Gran once said not to think about the what ifs and focus on what you have. She's always been one for good advice. And right now, I think that I should follow it.

I buried myself deeper in my mound of pillows and blankets, thinking about tomorrow. It's the Quidditch match, and as usual, I'm really nervous. Fred and George are always having too much fun to worry about it, and they have massive egos and thus are sure that they'll do fine. Alicia and Angelina aren't really that fussed by it, as they're also sure that they'll do fine. Harry stresses out big time and refuses to eat anything. Wood worries and stresses and worries some more and stresses some more until the day arrives. Then he worries some more, stresses some more, doesn't eat anything, can't speak properly, and then he performs well.

I guess the same can be said for me, but despite my Gran and her advice, I can't help but think of the what if: I may perform horribly and let my team and house down.

So instead of being a normal person and practicing on the day before a match, I like to lie in bed and wallow in my self-doubts. Not exactly a healthy strategy, but I like it.

"Stephy!" a voice yelled, and I groaned. Really, Angie? Do you have to interrupt my pitiful wallowing?

"Stephy, I'm here to interrupt your pitiful wallowing!"

Right.

The curtains to my bed swung open, and there Angie stood, hands on her hips and looking down at me distastefully. Without asking whether I wanted her to sit down or not, she did so.

"So, Quidditch tomorrow. It's nice to see that you haven't changed your pre-match preparations."

I sent her a sour look. "Shut up."

"Neither has Oliver," she said thoughtfully. "He's stressing and worrying. Snapped at me for breathing to loudly." She sighed and shook her head. "Anyway, I just wanted to see if you'd like to come down to the kitchens with me? I feel like ice-cream."

Did I mention that I don't like eating before a match? But my stomach rumbled at the thought of ice-cream, so I nodded and stood up.

"Good," she said, linking arms with me. "I honestly feel like eating ice-cream and talking about my feelings at the moment, so we'll come back up here after."

Again, I nodded, not really in the mood for talking.

When we reached the kitchens, Angie went to ask the house elves for a tub of ice-cream, and I waited in the main entrance. I was bored, until I spotted Fred and George.

This was the perfect opportunity! No one we know is in here, apart from those who know about me and Fred's predicament. The minute Fred saw me, he stopped talking to George and walked towards me.

"Hey," he grinned. "Long time no see!"

"More like long time no snog," I joked, and before he could laugh, I attached my lips to his. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. We both decided to ignore George's gagging sound.

As he bit down on my lip for more entrance, I realised something. This kiss felt... different. It wasn't as stimulating, and it didn't make my heart beat quicken. I frowned slightly. You would think that after not snogging for weeks, the feeling would be more intense... but it wasn't. In fact, there was barely even a spark. However, Fred didn't seem to notice this. I kissed him back, trying to convince myself that we were just at an odd phase in our relationship and Wood meddling with things was the cause of it.

When he eventually pulled away, his sapphire eyes were glinting down at me, a smirk playing on his lips.

"That was good," he said. I smiled and agreed, although I knew that it was a lie. I turned around and spotted Angie and George looking at us, disgusted.

"We're only children!" George exclaimed, wiping a fake tear from his eyes. "Our eyes! That kiss was so disgusting that a thousand puppies lost their innocence!"

I snorted at the metaphor, taking my hands off Fred and facing my two friends. "Right."

"Oh, we do apologise for turning you two on," Fred joked. I smirked at their reactions. They both turned red, before simultaneously scoffing. I rolled my eyes. It was no secret – even to them – that they liked each other. They could stop pretending, even if they weren't allowed to date.

"Fred, it is clear that you two are the only ones who were turned on here," Angelina said firmly, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," George said, somewhat lamely. The corners of Angie's mouth twitched, but she managed to hold back the smile.

"Anyway, Stephy and I best be going," she said, pointing to her tub of ice-cream. I heard Fred make a noise of dissent.

"But we haven't been alone in ages!" he whined, slipping his hand through mine. "And now that no one's here and bothering us, you want to take the moment away?" he asked, sniffing melodramatically.

I bit my lip. Angie really did want to talk to me. And I wanted to listen to what she had to say.

After that kiss... I don't know. Things feel different, weird. Why didn't I feel anything? It just felt awkward and stilted. Just like the thought of hanging out with him now did.

"Fred, I'm sorry, but Angie and I really need to talk," I said, feeling bad as his expression fell. "Hey, tomorrow night, whilst everyone is partying over our victory, we'll sneak down here and hang out. Promise," I said firmly, kissing his cheek. He gave me a small smile.

"Alright. Love you," he said, ruffling my hair.

"Love you too," I replied. I mentally winced. That sounded really insincere. He frowned slightly, but shrugged. With that, Angie and I walked out.

"Wow, you two seemed really... I dunno, unconnected?"

I reckon the reason I've felt this way is because I'm so worried about the match that I can't focus. Yeah, that'll be the reason...

"It's hard, what with Wood banning us from being together," I admitted, as we made our way back to our dorms. She smiled sympathetically.

"I know."

* * *

><p>I woke up really early the next morning. I always did on the mornings before Quidditch matches. I looked out of the window, groaning as I saw a storm brewing. Flying in a storm is hard.<p>

Angie and Alicia were still asleep, so I carefully and quietly got dressed, before walking out of the dorms. I decided on going down to the locker rooms. They should be deserted. See, I like cutting myself off from everyone else when I'm nervous. Like with my 'pitiful wallowing' technique, it isn't exactly healthy. But whatever floats your boat.

Hugging my jacket tighter to my body, I increased my pace. The locker rooms were enclosed, insulated, and the corridors were bitterly cold.

When I finally reached my destination, I pushed the door open and sat down on one of the benches, sighing. It was so much warmer in here.

Angie and Alicia say that I get irrationally nervous before a Quidditch game, which I agree with. But I feel as though so much pressure is put upon me, from a certain individual. Let's face it. Wood dislikes me. Hell – he hates me. And yet he still allowed me on the Quidditch team. This is only because I'm good at Quidditch – it has nothing to do with anything else. So I have to prove to him that I'm good. If I don't, then I'm off the team.

I sighed. He wouldn't kick Angelina or Alicia off if they didn't perform so well. Yet I had the strong feeling that he would kick me off. Unfair, I know. But that's life.

"Rose?"

I snapped my head up at the sound of that Scottish brogue. My eyes narrowed. Wood.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was then that I became aware of the fact that he was wearing only a towel around his waist. To my horror, my eyes flickered to his chest for just a moment, a moment long enough to realise that hell, he had abs. _Snap out of it!_

I focused my gaze back up onto his face, eyes narrowing to slits when I saw that he was smirking; he noticed my little eye flick down to his chest.

"I'm not doing anything," I said stubbornly, folding my arms across my chest. "I just came down here."

"Right," he said, and to my annoyance, he sat right next to me. "And why exactly?"

I didn't answer, but I needn't have.

"Let me guess. Nerves."

"Got it in one," I muttered. I really wasn't fond of this lightheaded feeling I was getting around Wood.

There was a very awkward silence. I wanted to tell Wood to fuck off, but for some reason, I didn't feel like being a bitch. I like to think that I'm a nice person. It's just Wood who brings out that angry side in me. And I knew exactly why. All my anger stemmed from hurt.

He's the person who has hurt me more than anyone.

"You had better perform well today," he said suddenly, tone sharp. I turned to face him, annoyed.

"Don't I always?"

"Well, you haven't been going very well during practise these past few weeks," he said, giving me a lopsided smirk. "Heartbreak isn't a nice feeling, is it, love?"

The way he phrased that, it was as if he had gone through it. I mentally snorted. As if. Wood's the heartbreaker around here, sleeping with a different girl every week. He's never been the brunt of heartbreak.

He seems to think that I'm heartbroken because Fred and I broke up. That's not the case. Many years ago, I was heartbroken because of _Wood_.

"I'm not heartbroken," I said firmly, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. "And if I was, it would be your fault."

His eyes flashed. "No it wouldn't. It would be your fault for being weak," he sneered. I clenched my fists. I was about to speak, but he cut in.

"I know exactly what little game you're running here. You're still with Fred. Before you interject, listen very closely. I know that you're not one to obey rules, so I'll make a deal with you."

I blinked a few times. Crap. How did he know?

Making a deal with Wood doesn't sound appealing. It could be any deal... but for Quidditch...

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Perform well in this match – and I mean well, Rose – I'll let you stay on the team. If not, say goodbye."

"I always perform well," I snapped. "And you can't blame me for wanting to stay with Fred."

Wood snorted, eyes narrowing with disgust. "Rose, can't you bloody see it? Fred is just a phase! Are you really willing to let him stop your dreams, hm? Because if you don't perform well in this match, and you're off the team, it's your own fault."

I was starting to become really angry. "My own fault?! You, Wood, have put these rules in place, rules which are completely ridiculous, I might add. I don't care whether you are my captain or not, you will not rule my life."

He wringed his hands in frustration. "You are the thickest person I have ever met! You and Fred aren't going to last! How old are you, fifteen? You have no clue what love is. You just fancy Fred because you're a teenage girl and you have a thing for bad boys. What's going to happen when Fred finds a girl with bigger boobs, eh? When he gets bored of you? He's going to run off with her. And you're going to be heartbroken."

I slapped him. Across the face.

I was blinking back tears of anger at his words. He can't just go saying stuff like that! I had never been so angry with someone in my life.

"Don't you act as though you know what's best for me, you git," I snarled, feeling a pang of satisfaction at the bright red slap mark on his cheek. "You know nothing."

He didn't look as though he was about to respond to this. "I'll say it one last time. Perform well, or you're gone."

"What about Fred?"

He smirked. "Fred can stay."

As much as I didn't want Fred to be kicked off the team, I couldn't help but see the injustice of this whole situation. "So we're both still together, yet _I'm_ the one you're threatening to kick off?!"

"Yep," he said simply, a smirk playing on his lips but eyes hard and cold.

"But that's not fair at all!" I exclaimed, the injustice of it all making me shake with anger.

"You know what isn't fair?" he hissed, edging closer to me. "That you think yourself to be above the rules that I've set in place. Fred is only breaking the rules because of you, Rose. You're breaking the rules out of spite."

"Out of spite? I'm breaking the rules because I love him!"

Wood snorted, eyes alight with malice. "You don't. You'll come to see that soon."

I took a deep breath, telling myself not to hit him across the face again. He isn't doing this. He can't. He must know that I wouldn't jeopardise Quidditch if I didn't love Fred. Because I do love him. Even if things felt weird yesterday...

He's got be backed into a corner and he knows it. His definition of performing well is different to mine. He will expect me to score every single goal. He will expect so much of me. I heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. The storm was going to make things a lot harder.

His expression was triumphant, goading. I held back tears.

Gone was the Oliver Wood who was my best friend, my first love.

"I honestly hate you," I said harshly, standing up and forcing my eyes not to venture down his sculpted chest.

Was it just me, or did his eyes flash with hurt? If they did, it was only for a second before he spoke.

"It's all up to you."

"No it isn't," I growled. "It's up to you. You're the one making this happen."

"Oh yeah? You're the one who can't break-up with a guy who she doesn't even love. I didn't ask for much, love."

I shook my head, not even having the energy to yell at him. "You have no idea what you were asking of me," I said quietly, before walking off.

Again, I swear he looked hurt for a second.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Challenges of a Chaser**

_As a friend, as an old enemy_

Body shaking, face wet with a mingle of tears, sweat and rain, I stalked down to the locker rooms, determinedly ignoring the throbbing pains all across my body. That Quidditch match was a fiasco – I'm almost certainly kicked off the team now. I didn't keep my end of Wood's deal.

As horrible as it sounded, a part of me regretted not breaking up with Fred. If I did, I would still have Quidditch. No one would understand that. No one _ever_ understands how much Quidditch means to me.

The one person that _did_ understand is about to kick me off the team.

If I didn't meet Fred or George, I think that I would be even more Quidditch obsessed. But being with them introduced me to so much more to life: pranking, backchatting professors and sneaking off to Hogsmeade. However, no amount of twin-related fun could completely take away my love for Quidditch. If Wood didn't turn into a massive prick, I think that I would be as obsessed with Quidditch as he is.

I wiped more tears from my eyes. I shouldn't be thinking about Wood. But I am. All the time. It's making me worry about how I feel about Fred.

I shouldn't be regretting not breaking up with him! I love him!

I actually snorted aloud at this. It sounded so fake and superficial, even in my head. Love.

My Gran once said that true love can only be found with ones soulmate, someone who you have known since you were little. Someone who was your best friend, perhaps.

I clapped a hand over my mouth. I'm not thinking of Wood, am I?

I _should_ be thinking of Fred. But I have a feeling that things aren't exactly right with us anymore. I think about Wood all the time, not Fred. That isn't right.

At that thought, my anger returned. It was partially fuelled by all these thoughts about Wood, but mostly fuelled about how unfair he was being.

I opened the door to the locker rooms, looking around for him. Before I followed the team up to the Hospital Wing (Harry had fallen off his broom, but he's okay now) I saw Wood walk into the showers. He was probably drowning himself. I knew him well enough to know that he didn't take losing Quidditch matches well. Why he was punishing himself, I didn't know. It was _my_ fault, at least in his eyes.

In my defence, it wasn't _completely_ my fault. I couldn't see anything, and that was because of the rain, not because I'm vision impaired (he yelled out 'get some glasses!' to me during the match). It was also the rain's fault that I dropped the Quaffle a few times.

I heard the shower running. "Wood," I said coldly. "Stop drowning yourself."

No response.

As furious as I was at him, I didn't want him to die. Preparing myself for a naked Wood, I opened the shower door. To my surprise, he was still in his robes, sitting down and leaning against the shower wall. Despite everything, my heart went out to him.

He looked up, eyes hazy and heavy-lidded. "Fi?" he said softly. My breath hitched in my throat. Fi was what he used to call me when we were little. I hated being called Stephanie, so I told him to call me Stephy like everyone else did. He didn't listen. He made up his own nickname for me. I blinked away more tears. How could be just casually call me Fi when everything between us has changed?

"Stop drowning yourself," I choked out, before taking a deep breath. _Stop being pathetic, Stephy_. "If you do, you won't be able to kick me off the team."

At this, Wood stood up, turning the shower off and facing me properly. He was soaked to the bone, brown hair stuck to his face, an upset and angry look in his brown eyes. I was overcome with the urge to hug him, but I mentally slapped myself.

"You're not off the team," he said softly. His attitude was so much different to how he was this morning – when he was angry, harsh and rude. "But do you see what I mean now? Is he really worth Quidditch? When we lost, did you have any doubts about your relationship with him? Did you _regret_ dating him despite my rules?"

I opened my mouth and then closed it, dumbfounded. How did he know?

His expression turned into one of knowing. "I know you. Quidditch is your world."

Wood's expression was strange. He looked a little annoyed, and a little pained. I wondered whether he was thinking about childhood memories. He didn't say knew. He said _know_.

A few days ago, I would have scoffed at that. He doesn't know me.

But today's actions show that he does.

"How? After all these years of you ignoring me, how?"

He shot me a flat look. "You may hate me, but I don't hate you. Don't think I _ever_ stopped thinking about you."

It took me a few moments to process his words. Today was the first day ever in my five years of being at Hogwarts that Wood has made a reference to our friendship. I thought that he hated me, and that he forgot about me. It seems that I'm wrong on both counts. I know when he's lying. And right now, he's being completely truthful.

That's when _things_ started happening.

I felt all fluttery and jittery in my stomach at the intense gaze he was holding. It was how I usually reacted to Fred's gazes.

Things are changing and I don't like it. Is that crush on Wood possibly starting to rekindle...?

"Stop making me second guess myself," I mumbled, annoyed with myself. God, I can't like him.

"If you truly loved Fred, then you wouldn't be," he said quietly, as if he knew the type of thoughts I was having. "Look, you can date him and stay on the team. Whatever. I think I've made you realise the truth." Wood gave me a small smile. "Come up to my dorms tonight, and we'll sort through everything. I promise."

Wood has broken many promises before. He said we would always be friends, the biggest promise of them all. So why should I believe him?

Because he's not lying and I can see that much.

"Alright," I replied. He smiled more widely this time. I've always thought that he has a gorgeous smile, but as of now, I'm appreciating it even more.

Has he _really_ made me realise the truth? That I don't love Fred?

No. It's perfectly normal to be noticing that another guy is attractive. It doesn't mean anything... right?

I turned to walk out, but Wood grabbed my wrist, stopping me. Up close, he smelt like pine needles and musky cologne. I shivered slightly, which I didn't think had anything to do with the water dripping off his clothes. "And Fi?" he said my nickname quietly, as if he wasn't sure whether he could still use it. And I'm sorry to say that I had no misgivings at all. "I want to be friends."

Once he let me go, I practically skipped up to the common room. Even though we lost the Quidditch match, so much good had come out of it! Wood and I were going to be friends again! That thought brought a smile to my face.

He was so mean to me this morning, but what had changed? Was it because he _thought_ he made me realise how I feel about Fred?

I don't know anymore. I didn't feel that usual feeling when Fred kissed me. I felt as though my 'I love you too' was forced. Wood has unknowingly changed the dynamics between Fred and I by banning us from dating. Wait... was that his intention all along? To make me realise the truth: that I don't love Fred?

I'm not sure if it's true yet. But if that _was_ Wood's intention, why did he want me to realise it? What does he have to gain from it?

For the moment, I didn't care. Finally, after all these years, maybe we can get back on track!

I dreamed about this day, but I vowed to myself that I would never, ever listen to what excuse he has. Now that the day has come, I know that I will be listening.

When I entered the common room, Fred approached me, blue eyes clouded over with concern. "What happened? Are you off the team?"

"No," I replied, grinning at the memory of our conversation. We're going to be friends again! "We can still date."

He lifted me up and pressed his mouth against mine in a passionate kiss. I mentally winced. I hate faking it, but I had to, convincing myself that we were just in an odd phase of our relationship.

Yet somehow, I knew I was convincing myself of a lie.

When he pulled away, he was grinning widely. "This is great news, Stephy! What made him change his mind?"

"No idea," I said, which was partially the truth. I had a suspicion it was because Wood wanted to rebuild our friendship, but I wasn't sure.

Fred grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me over to the couch where all my friends sat. They're all amazing friends. I glanced at Fred, who was laughing at something Alicia said. Fred's always been my best friend. But it was a different sort of friendship to what Wood and I had. With Wood and I, we were insanely close. With Fred and I, it seemed more like a brother/sister friendship. That was why it shocked me when I started getting feelings for Fred in fourth year. It didn't shock me _too_ much when I was a seven-year-old girl who had feelings for Wood, because of our closeness.

But the feelings of a seven year old and a fourteen year old are very different scenarios.

Now I'm back to how I was feeling when I was twelve. Confused over Wood, maybe even having a tiny crush on him... and Fred was just a brother figure. I felt nothing at Fred's touch. Nor his smile, or his kiss. It felt wrong, forced.

But I didn't know how to tell him this. So I decided to keep quiet.

Even though Gryffindor lost, it seems that everyone is more lighthearted. I think that we're all relieved because Harry didn't die. Everyone except for Wood.

I hope he's okay. He's so harsh on himself. I checked the time. It was four in the afternoon. Wow... that match went for longer than I anticipated.

I was upset that we lost, sure. I hated the fact that all my efforts to play my best didn't pay off. But there's no use wallowing, in the words of my Gran.

I wish Wood would take her advice.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Fred seemed really happy, because we didn't have to keep our relationship a secret. I smiled and laughed along with him, but not because of that. Because of Wood.

* * *

><p>During dinner that night, Wood gave me a curt nod and mouthed 'we'll talk soon'. Luckily, none of my friends noticed this exchange. Once dinner was over, Fred kissed my cheek and spoke.<p>

"George and I are going to sneak into Hogsmeade. Even though we lost, I think we deserve a losing party, right?"

I smiled. Fred seems like an arrogant person, but he really does care for the wellbeing of others. I swallowed hard, feeling guilty. I shouldn't be questioning how I feel about him. But I can't help it.

"Sounds good. Can you get me some fudge?"

"Of course."

He winked at me before he and George left the Great Hall together. I followed after them but made a different turn to go into the Gryffindor common room.

I decided to go up to Wood's dorms. He'll come up there soon enough.

I've been in Boys Dorms before, of course. It was easy for me to ignore the clothing littered all over the floor and the state of disarray the seventh year dorms were. I spotted Wood's bed easily: it was the only one that was made. I stifled a chuckle. He's always been an organised guy.

I sat down on his bed, staring at my hands. I couldn't believe that after all these years of yearning for it, it was finally happening. I was about to sort things through with Wood.

I looked up, hoping that he would be here soon. That's when something caught my eye. Actually, a lot of something's. Photographs.

My breath hitched in my throat. Oh my gosh...

They were photos of me and Wood. So many photos.

So many memories.

Pictures of us with our arms around each other, pictures of us laughing in the ocean, pictures of us playing Quidditch, and a picture of us holding hands...

In the centre of this arrangement was a picture of me. It's a recent photo. I took it before this term started. I wondered where it had gone...

"Like it?" a Scottish voice said. I tore my eyes away from the photos, spotting Wood standing in front of me, a small smile on his face. Without hesitation, I stood up and hugged him. He imitated the action.

Wood held me differently to how Fred held me. Fred usually just wrapped his arms around my waist, but this was different. One of Wood's hands was pressing the small of my back against his body, the other resting on my head. The hug made me feel more loved than Fred ever could.

I pulled away first, shocking myself with the tears forming in my eyes. This was just too much...

"Don't cry, Fi," he chuckled, sitting down on his bed. I followed suit, eyes flickering back to the pictures on his wall. I wondered how long they had been there.

I had so many questions to ask, but one seemed more important than the others: why did he pretend that we were never friends?

"Wood... Oliver," I corrected. "Why?"

A strange expression crossed his features, and he shook his head. "I don't want to say."

My heart sank; this was what I wanted to know the whole time. "Please."

"Look, ask me anything but that," he said, tone slightly sharp. "All I can say is I'm sorry. I hope you know how much."

I couldn't help but feel annoyed at his words. He can't just _not_ give me an explanation!

"Please," I repeated. "It's all I want to know."

He smiled wryly. "Of course. But I had reasons, okay? I've been thinking, Fi... I really want us to be friends again. Like we were before."

The way he was speaking was making me forget my anger pretty quickly. The soft tone, which was rare for Oliver, the way he was looking at me...

"I missed you," I said quietly.

"I missed you too," he responded, a strange look in his eyes.

"Why did you try and break Fred and I up?" I asked. I needed answers.

"I just... he's not the one for you, okay? You love Quidditch, and he was getting in the way... I..."

I noticed that he was edging closer to me as he spoke. I'm sorry to say that I had no intentions of moving away. I was frozen to the spot, confused about his sudden change of heart concerning our friendship, captivated by the look in his eyes... I just couldn't make a coherent or sensible thought.

"Why do you want to be friends again?" I asked, my voice low. "After all these years, why?"

He placed a hand on my thigh. I jumped at the contact. I started feeling strange in my stomach. I could feel a prickly, hot sensation wash through my body.

As if realising that I have a boyfriend, he quickly removed his hand, looking guilty. "Because it's my last year, and I've realised how bloody stupid I've been."

My eyes started welling with tears again. This is the Oliver Wood I knew and loved. He can have a temper, but when he's like this...

I choked on my response. He really has no idea how much this meant to me. When we were younger, he looked after me. He made sure that I wasn't upset. I think that in a juvenile way, I did love him. As only a little girl could.

I've never wondered this before. But if we remained friends, is there a chance that we could have gotten together? I remember a day when Oliver started holding my hand unexpectedly...

Did I ever stop fancying him?

"So what do you say?" he asked.

"To what?"

"To what flavour your birthday cake is, Rose," he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes; he was making a reference to an argument we had years ago. "To us being friends."

I honestly had nothing to lose.

But if I _do_ have feelings for Oliver, then I have something to lose – Fred.

Not even the thought of Fred could change my mind. "Of course."

Why did I have the feeling that everything was about to change?


End file.
